


That's Just Who I Am This Week

by thnksfrthevenom



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Mall AU, Polyamory, Therapy, dysmorphia, everyone is sad, non-binary! patrick, they all need hugs tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-11 05:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3316091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thnksfrthevenom/pseuds/thnksfrthevenom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick is Nonbinary and Pete is a dick. Things work out until they don't. A mall AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ourladyoftoros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourladyoftoros/gifts).



> Okay this is my first chapter I'm sorry if it sucks I promise you it'll get better.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what some like to call a prologue

 The waiting room is disgusting. Patrick tries not to look at the peeling paint as he makes his way to a half broken chair. The room is hot and full of the rumble of noise makers and fans that ensure their clients confidentiality. The whole idea of ‘confidentiality’ amuses him endlessly, seeing that the waiting room is full of pasty white people who probably consider turning without a turn signal a thrilling adventure.The door opens and an older woman with a warm face called out a generic name, something along the lines of Jack. Maybe-Jack stands up and she smiles softly to him as they leave the room.

The air is stuffy and Patrick suddenly can’t get enough breath in his lungs. A familiar pit settles in his stomach as he becomes increasingly winded.

‘Coming here was a bad idea. I’m a freak and she’s going to know it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.’ Patrick tries to calm himself by drumming on his thigh with a spare pen. He flings the pen down over and over again and eventually feels the worst of his anxiety attack simmer away.

The door opens again and a pretty younger woman says his name. It takes Patrick a long moment to realize that she is asking for him. He stands up and walks slowly over to her, trying to avoid her imploring eye contact. She leads him to her office silently and Patrick is grateful for that much.

Her office is nasty. The carpet is a hideous pattern that he thought only grandmothers had access to and the walls are full of artwork, presumably by her child. The room smells aggressively of Cheez-its and as she takes her seat in the leather bound chair facing the couch that Patrick can only assume is where he is supposed to sit, he notices a bag of the crackers in her lap.

“My name is Victoria Asher. You can call me Dr. Asher, Victoria, or Vicky-T if you want to,” she smiles. “I’m here to help you however I can. Everything you say in here is highly confidential.” He nods his head in acknowledgment but remains quiet. “Tell me about yourself,” she prompts.

“My name is Patrick Stump. I’m 19 years old and work at a music store. That’s it I guess,” he says looking down at his hands.

“I really doubt that’s it but I’ll leave it be for now. Now, Patrick, would you like to tell me why you scheduled this appointment?” He squirms in his seat for a moment before answering with closed eyes, “I don’t always feel like a guy but I know I’m not a girl. At least I’m not all the way girl. Sometimes I think I might be a girl, like when I put on a dress or something, but then the next day it feels wrong again. I don’t know whats wrong with me, but I know I have to make up my mind about my gender.” Victoria looks at him almost vacantly for a moment before giving him a bright smile.

“Good news Patrick, there is nothing wrong with you. It sounds like you may be genderfluid or something along those lines. Being like this means you aren’t always one gender and sometimes you are both and occasionally neither. You can express your gender identity however you like but I want you to know that you are not broken, Patrick Stump.” He nods at her, relieved for a moment before sticky panic coats his stomach.

“Fuck. What am I gonna tell my friends? My family? What am I gonna do when I go to work one day in a dress?! It can’t just be like that. They’re gonna think I’m a freak,” he exhales.

Victoria looks at him again and quickly spews out affirmations and comforting words. Even though Patrick nodded his head, he didn’t really hear what she was saying. The hour went by quickly and before he knew it, Dr. Asher was standing up and shaking his hand.

“How much do I owe you?” He asks, a little afraid of the answer.

“$100. And if you could make that out to my company instead of my personal name that would be helpful.” Patrick mournfully signs the check and starts to eulogize the Fender guitar he had been eyeing at his shop the past week.

“Will I be seeing you again?” Victoria looks at him warmly and Patrick can’t help but respond with a “Yes.”

He scurries back to the dismal waiting room to grab his jacket that he idiotically forgot; it had his phone in the pocket for Christ’s sake. When he is ready to say goodbye to the moldy therapy building for the week, he slams into a wall. Or at least he thought it was a wall — in reality, it was a honey-skinned man spangled in tattoos and barely taller than Patrick.

“Fuck, I’m sorry man,” the taller apologizes.

“Its fine, don’t worry about it,” Patrick replies. “Oh hey, nice shirt,” he adds, noticing man’s Bowie shirt.

“I’m borrowing it from a friend. I’m more of a Metallica kind of guy myself,” he says shyly.

“Metallica is a solid band too. Kirt Hammett works miracles on his guitar.” The stranger laughs at Patrick’s remark and as they go their separate ways the tattooed man calls out to him, “I never got your name.” 

"Its Patrick. You?”

“I’m Pete.”

Patrick closes the door before he can say anything else. He likes the way “Pete” feels on his tongue.


	2. Does Your Husband Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete and Patrick meet again. Pete also has a "secret." Kinda.

The week marched by in the uniform way it always did. Patrick couldn't get rid of the weird feeling in his chest- residue of his visit with Dr. Asher. The only way he knew how to hid from his anxiety was to bury it. Bury it in extra shifts and cheep booze. He was constricted by everything and by Tuesday he could tell Frank, his overly excitable coworker, was starting to worry about him. He had even tried to convey his concern, however awkward it was.

“Dude, you’ve got to wake up.” He’d said. “Smell the roses, feel the breeze. That shit ya’ know.” Patrick has just rolled his eyes and dusted off the chipped ukulele Tyler had found at a yard sale last week.

“I’m not very interested in ‘that shit,’ Frank.”

“Fine then. Live your life in misery, see if I care.” Patrick was deeply amused by his statement as his current girlfriend was “secretly” dating another guy behind his back and Frank was too afraid of losing her to do anything about it.

“Fuck off man, I’m doing my best.”

“If your best is working the late shift at Joseph’s Music then you aren’t worthy of your charm. Live your life dude. In fact, I have a good idea of how to get you to loosen up…”

 

~

 

Patrick's life felt so stuffy and uncomfortable that when a familiar tattooed figure entered the poorly lit shop he worked at, he barely noticed. The costumer was, to the contrary, very interested in the boy sitting behind the checkout desk, staring into space.  

"Hey," a gravely voice calls out. "Is this place open?”

Patrick closes his eyes once, twice, three times just to make sure what he was seeing was real. It was. 

"Umm... Yeah. We're open from 9 to 6. I... um... how can I help you ?" Patrick was stuttering out his words; he wanted to crawl into a hole and vanish. Instead he did the ~~shitty~~ adult thing and put on his best fake smile. “

Shit. I knew I knew you! You chat with Victoria too! You're lookin' good man, how've you been?" Pete was grinning broadly and for a moment Patrick really believed that this man gave a shit about him.

"I.. ugh.. I've been fine. What about you?" Patrick is contractually obligated to be nice to everyone that walks through the door even though he knows once Pete opens his mouth, it’ll never close.

"Jesus I've been dying to be asked that all day... Today has totally sucked. First I woke up to my phone ringing and it was my boss and he was all like: 'get your ass down here Wentz." Which is total bullshit because today is my fucking half day right. Anyway so I get down to the parlor and there is this kid in my fucking chair and I literally tutored him two years ago so his fake I.D. wasn't foolin' me, right? But my boss is a total jackass and he was like: 'Of course the kid is 18 it says it right here on his MOTHERFUCKING FAKE I.D.' And my boss knows that I’m the best tattoo artist but he said that I was gonna be on sweeping duty for the month if I kept it up. But I’m the best faggot in the shop, so at that point I kind of lost it a little and called him a selfish slut and I've wandering around the mall every since.”

Patrick knew the polite/mature/responsible thing to do is to comfort Pete but all he can do is stare. He holds his eye contact for the count of 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 before he bursts out laughing. He feels vaguely guilty but god he can’t help it. He thought Pete was fucking cool and this is what he says when he has to chance to talk? He was such a dick too. My god, this man had even conned him into thinking that he was a good person. Pete is looking at him quizzically, like he didn't get what was so funny. 

"Oh... My.. God..." Patrick wheezes. It takes him another moment to regain his composure before the waves of panic start up again. He knows, he really knows, that laughing was a total dick move but god… This was the man that he had been thinking had just been a stress induced hallucination. And now that they’re actually speaking Patrick feels disappointed.

“I’m sorry. I’m not very good at meeting new people. Let me start from the top: My name is Pete Went, my day sucked, and I want to buy you a coffee.”

Patrick knows that he should decline. He shouldn't just leave during his shift, even if it is nearing his lunch break. But his head is already floating out of the stuffy store and he figures it probably better to have company in another

 

~

 

“Starbucks? That’s… nice.” Patrick feels another sinking spell as once more one of his irrational hopes that Pete is different is crushed.

“Yeah well I’ve sleep with everyone that works there so it’s always a bargain. There is even a dude there that thinks he’s a girl. It’s a fucking riot. The Starbucks on Floor 2 is the best place for gossip in this whole mall, consider that a gift from me to you.”

Patrick feels weird again. A thick mix of disheartenment and confusion is churning in his stomach.

“Dude, what can I get you?”

Pete snaps him away from his thoughts. Which, in retrospect, is good. His internal monolog was awfully whiny.

“You don’t need to pay,” He halfheartedly argues.

“Yes I do.” Even though its shitty, Patrick is relieved because its not like he has the same kind of money as Tattoo Artist Punk Legend Douche Bag Extraordinaire Wentz. He orders a black coffee and fails to stifle a laugh when Pete purchases something more syrup then beverage. He couldn’t help it. Pete has the audacity to be covered in black ink, piercings, leather, and awkward transphobia but he can't even handle real coffee. He sips his drink is silence but is actually aware of Pete’s lazy gaze sweeping over him.

“So Pete..” Patrick is fishing for words that aren’t there. He knows that the older man seems to think they have an amazing connection and that somehow everything is fate and their friendship is destined to last an entirety but he isn't buying that bullshit. He knows what Pete is and he wanted no part in it.

“Yeah, Patty?”

“Thank you for the coffee and everything but I really should get back to work, “ he says. Pete looks confused, like he can’t think of why Patrick wouldn't want to hang out with him.

“Oh okay, sure.” Pete pauses a moment before adding: “I’m having a party on Friday. It’s going to be terrible, please come?” Patrick really doesn't want to but he knows that if he doesn't at least appear for a moment, Frank will never let him live it down.

“Uh sure”

Pete scrawls the address on Patrick’s cup, still half full of coffee. He touches the still wet ink and watches it smear a little on his fingers.

“Please come. I want to see your pretty mouth again.”

Pete says this with such flirty superiority that Patrick jerks up and just walks away. Not bothering to look back. If he had, he would of seen his acquaintance on the verge of tears. Not sure what he did wrong.

 

~

 

Patrick’s ears were ringing and he too was almost in tears, but for a very different reason. He couldn't believe that a basic stranger had the audacity to pretend to hit on him. He would of been flattered, he would of even given Pete his number, but he saw him slip a metal band off his finger when he entered the shop. He knew he was married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points if you can guess who his husband is! The story is going to start picking up after this chapter. remember to comment and whatnot because reading your comments is my passion. Thanks for reading!


	3. Him and Her and Everything In Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick caves, Pete gets some money, and Gabe wears neon.

“It’s not that simple, asshole.” Patrick was laying across the floor and trying painfully hard not to think about how fucked up everything was. 

“Sure it is. Hot older man wants to do some sexy times because his wife is boring and bedridden with chronic suck or something like that, hot young musical man comes along and has some mind-blowing sex with him before ditching him and let him deal with the repercussions. Bada bing, bada boom.” Patrick rolls his eyes. This about the 10th time he’s had this conversation with Frank over the past two days. It was his fault really; he kept bringing it up and Frank was usually too stoned to get off the couch, let alone give advice.

Now that Patrick had some time to look back on it, his time with Pete had been pretty great. He’d been so offended and frankly, shocked, that the older man had been hitting on him that he hadn't let himself enjoy being around him. His kindness had flustered Patrick so much that he had just assumed it was all a joke or a ploy to get into his pants. And sure, Pete had said some stuff that had offended him but it wasn't like he had the thickest skin. No one as hot as Pete had hit on him since… ever. And the ring could of meant nothing, maybe thats why he took it off. So that Patrick wouldn't get the wrong idea. He was just being a baby. 

“I’m gonna go,” he announces to Frank. He tries not to think of how Pete’s tattoos wrap around his arms and peek out from under his shirt. That’s not why he’s going. He can’t let it be.

“Fuckin’ finally. When is it? Am I invited too? Cause if I’m not I’m going anyway.” Patrick resists rolling his eyes, Frank is the most social introvert he has ever met. “Wait a fuck, didn't you throw the mug away?”

“I might of taken a picture…” he admits, trying not to feel like he’s confessing to something more. He only looks at Frank’s smirk for a moment before going over to sort through the local band’s section.

~

The moment Patrick walks through the door, he feels too sober. The house is smoggy and smells like a combination of sharp alcohol and sweet sweat. He stands in the entryway while Frank darts ahead, recognizing a face in the crowd. 

The room that seems to have the majority of the people in it is large and entirely under decorated. A single ugly coach covered in greasy, yet undeniably attractive, bodies is the only furniture that he can see. Patrick feels a tug at his stomach as he realizes he doesn't know anyone and that he is so ugly and dorky in comparison. He wishes he was wearing a hat or at least a jacket, something to hide in. 

Coming here was a mistake. I’m a mistake. I need to get out of here before everyone finds out how pathetic I am. He’s panicking and can’t get enough air into his lungs. 

“Oh my god, Pattycakes! You came!” Pete’s hand is on his shoulder and he is weighted by the touch. Where did the man even come from? He must of breached a law of physics. “Do you want a drink? Come sit with me. You came, oh my god, I need to go show you off to Gabe.” 

Pete’s babbling is admittedly adorable and Patrick can feel the concrete in his stomach get lighter. The way Pete uses his hands with fervent animation gives him the weird sensation that he is falling. His eyes are awfully pretty, such a nice warm brown that light up whenever he looks directly into them. 

“Gabe..?” 

“Fuck, he’s gonna love you so much and he now owes me too, fucking yeah.” With that, Pete grabs his wrist and pulls him to an equally unfurnished room that is currently being dominated by a very tall and thin man with impressively good bone structure. He didn't know it was possible to “dominate” a room until he saw the person he was assuming was Gabe. Gabe was in complete control of the room, possibly due to the mesmerizing about of neon he was wearing, but also because of his stage presence. And there wasn't even a fucking stage. From what Patrick could tell he was trying to convert the giggling drunk girls leaning against the wall to some kind of snake cult. 

“Gaby Baby, you ugly dick, guess who showed up after all?”

“No fucking way. You’re lying. You’ve got to be.” 

“Nope. Here he is.” Pete nudges Patrick forward a little to forcefully to be entirely sober and he wishes he was at Pete’s socially blind level of drunkness, it might make all of this a little less painful. “Suck my 10 foot dick.”

Gabe looks scandalized for a moment before pulling himself together enough to flip Pete off and take a step closer to Patrick, inspecting him. 

“Damn, you’re almost as good looking as Pete described.”

“Uh…. Thanks?” Patrick thinks he means it as flattery but he is rapidly learning not to take anything said in this house seriously. 

“Dude, I totally meant that as a compliment. I have no idea what a ‘sinful, fuckable, mouth’ is but you come pretty close.” He puts the adjectives in quotes and looks so potently at Pete that Patrick cannot ignore the hint. Behind him he can feel Pete shrink away a little bit and he’s certain that if he looked back he’d catch Pete’s honey sweet skin tinged with pink. He doesn't look back though, as he is blushing too, and nothing would be worse then letting him know how much those words effected him. 

“Shut up, Saporta,” Pete mutters threateningly. Gabe looks almost bashful for a second, but its so short lived that Patrick might of just imagined it. Jesus, does he have no shame?

“Suck my dick, Wentz,” he says before pulling out a wad of bills. “I came prepared.” He shoves the money in Pete’s hand before winking at Patrick. Then he just turns back to the women he had been previously speaking to without another look.

As Patrick shuffles out of the room he can still hear the man’s over enthusiastic voice. “No, no no, the snake lord only visits you when you are deemed worthy… It doesn't count as beastality if they’re a god.”

What the fuck just happened?

~

Patrick is sitting on some dirty stairs outside with Pete. His head hurts a little but he isn't sure why. Maybe its cause it feels so light and floaty, like if the other man didn't have his steady hand on his knee he might fly away. 

“You literally had 2 drinks why are you giggling so much?” Pete asks him. Patrick just blushes and looks down, feeling very venerable. Everything he does around Pete turns out to be a first. Party scenes and hard alcohol just aren’t his place. If he could get his hands on a guitar or trumpet or just something that made noise he could show him. Maybe next time.

If there is a next time.

“Seriously man I was going to make my move tonight but I can’t have that on my conscious.” Pete looks so disappointed that Patrick tries to will himself to not laugh at everything, to give the illusion of sober. He burps a little at this moment and falls into hysteria once again. As he throws his body around, unable to control his guffaw, he ends up with his head on Pete’s lap. He chuckles for a moment more before becoming somber. His heart is beating a little faster and there is blood flooding his cheeks but he just can’t get the idea of ‘Her’ out of his head. 

“Does your wife know?” He asks, his better judgment was drowned by the whiskey. 

“Does my wife know?” Pete him echoes softly. The younger boy’s eyes widen and he moves his head just a little to encourage him to go on. 

“I don’t, I don’t have a wife, man.” He says, a little timidly.

“But your ring…?” Patrick says, completely baffled.

“Never said I wasn't married.”

Patrick gets it now and for some reason, even in his inebriated state, he feels worse. The possibility of them is even less sympathetic now. It wouldn't be him and Pete, two men that don’t understand their sexualities enough to use their good judgement. It would be him and Pete, cheating on a man that probably already have up so much to be married to him. He would be the other man, he would be the dirtiest secret in the history of affairs. 

“I won’t be married for long. That’s why the house is so empty. He’s leaving, meet a nice girl and they’re going to have a picket fence life. Something I could never give to him apparently. 5 years of “I love you’s” and then I come home one night suddenly all of it is a lie. Whatever man, I’m over it. I’m over him and into you.” Pete almost sounds convinced about the last part too. Almost.

Patrick is nearly asleep but Pete’s words make him feel like so warm and clean that his eyelids flutter open . He pulls himself up awkwardly, the angle uncomfortable and a little strenuous on his neck but it doesn't matter because a second later his mouth is on Pete’s and he forgets how to breath. 

The kiss is almost nothing, the position is just too unnatural to maintain but still Patrick’s skin feels like it’s on fire. He nestles against Pete’s surprisingly defined stomach and lets the booze and stress of the party wash over him as his eyes close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I bet you thought I abandoned this fic, no such luck! I'm feeling inspired and am going to try and update once a week from now on.  
> Please comment and let me know what you thought, I need motivation in the form of your words. Also be sure to follow me @thnksfrthevenom.tumblr.com for more in depth answers to any questions you have. Thank you for reading and I'll see you next time.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think. I'm going to try and update weekly but I'm sorry in advance. Also, if I made any grammatical mistakes please tell me!


End file.
